


waiting, fading, floating away

by orphan_account



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Benthan Week Day 2, Drowning, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Fanart, Love Confessions, M/M, Near Death, Parallels, Sort of? Parallels I made up?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-09-01 07:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20254072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ethan’s vision blurs, and he finds himself at the very end of the dock before registering that he’s moved at all.“We need a medevac right now!” Will barks. It’s the last thing he hears before he hits the water.





	waiting, fading, floating away

**Author's Note:**

> Fashionably late. Please heed the tags.
> 
> Title taken from Panic Switch by Silversun Pickups

Benji is running. 

Away from Ethan and Ilsa, toward Will and Luther because there’s a plan, because he trusts Ethan with everything that he has, because this ends tonight_._ His heart pounds in time with his footfalls. Both screech to a halt simultaneously when gunshots ring out in the distance.

_Keep running, turn around, keep going, go back—_

The choice is out of his hands when a fist collides with the back of his head. He stumbles forward and whips around to find himself face to face with a man he’s definitely seen before, though no names come to mind. Benji swings back. His knuckles connect with his assailant’s jaw. A knee to the other man’s groin brings him down easily. 

There isn’t time to think. His fingers close around the phone in his pocket, his mind racing to figure out an alternate route…

His vision blurs, limbs beginning to feel weighed down. The man on the ground catches his eye and smiles.

…

The glass box topples to the ground with Lane inside of it. Mission accomplished, but—

“Where the hell is Benji?” Ethan and Will ask in unison, their eyes meeting from opposite sides of the box. Will widens his eyes.

“Wasn’t he supposed to come here?” He asks, voice rising an octave. “Was that not the plan?”

"It was," Ethan says, and then pauses. "You mean he didn't?"

“I haven’t seen him since this afternoon.”

Ethan’s heart beats faster. He turns to Ilsa. “Was this planned?”

“No.” Her voice is quiet, but firm. “I don’t—,”

“You don’t know,” Will cuts in harshly. “You don’t care? He’s just collateral—”

“Shut up,” Ethan snaps. He turns back to Ilsa. “Do you know anything about this? Anything at all?”

“The plan was that I kill both of you, and if not me then the bomb. I told you that part.” She widens her eyes, before closing them tightly. When they open again, her gaze does not meet Ethan’s. “He might have been intercepted.”

“He’s…near the harbor,” Luther supplies. They all turn to him as he looks up from the tablet in his hands, slightly puzzled, before returning his attention to the screen. “Ethan, he’s gray.”

“Let me see,” Ethan says, his chest constricting further as Luther hands him the tablet. There is one green avatar – three, technically, but they’re so close that they’re practically on top of each other – and a gray one. He shakes his head, throat closing almost completely as terror uncoils in his gut. Wherever he is, isn’t moving. Hundreds of scenarios begin taking shape in his mind, not unlike those from over twelve hours ago. He shoves all of them back as far as he can. There isn't time to be afraid, being afraid won't do anything for Benji.

When he a runs from the garage as fast as his feet will carry him, Will follows close behind.

…

Luther directs the two of them to a small dock on the edge of the Thames, where they find his phone smashed on the sidewalk. Benji himself is nowhere to be seen. Will crouches to retrieve the phone.

“You’re right on top of him,” Luther states. “What do you see?”

“Nothing. He isn’t here.” Ethan’s voice is low. “He shouldn’t have been anywhere near here.”

“He could have dropped it,” Will points out. “Someone could have planted it.” Ethan shakes his head.

“They’d be waiting for me.” His eye catches the light reflected on the surface of the water as he turns away from the street. “We’re the only ones…” He trails off completely when his eye catches the water, a piece of fabric floating on the surface. Ethan frowns. A jacket?

Will catches it at the same moment. “Oh my god!"

Ethan’s vision blurs, and he finds himself at the very end of the dock before registering that he’s moved at all.

“We need a medevac _right now!_” Will barks. It’s the last thing he hears before he hits the water, where Benji floats just beneath the surface, and prays that they aren’t too late.

…

Will is ready when he resurfaces with a very lifeless Benji in his arms.

“C’mon.” Will stretches his arms down towards the water as far as they will reach. They manage, by some adrenaline-fueled miracle, to haul him to safety.

“We just pulled him out of the river,” Will mutters, bending down so that his cheek hovers just above Benji’s mouth. He gives him a breath before listening again. “No, he’s not.” Another breath, and then three more after that.

Ethan steels his nerves before crawling to Benji’s other side, but one look at his face is still a sucker punch to the throat. _He doesn’t look like that_, he thinks._ He isn’t supposed to look like that._

_One, two, three, four, five…_

“Luther’s coming. Ambulance too,” Will says. His fingertips stay glued to Benji’s throat while Ethan pumps on his chest.

_Ten, eleven, twelve…_

Ethan swallows the wedge in his throat and nods, unable to tear his eyes from Benji’s face. “How long?”

“Ten minutes, give or take.”

Ethan almost falters. They don’t have that long. _Benji _doesn’t have that long.

_Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two…_

“Thirty.”

He stops. Will breathes, listens, and breathes again.

_One, two, three…_

_…_

Four minutes pass, and Benji looks as dead as he had when they pulled him out. It’s only when Ethan reaches thirty for the ninth, maybe tenth time that he looks up to see Luther crouched next to Will’s left, fiddling with a yellow box in his hands. He’s not sure if they just arrived or if he'd genuinely lost time.

Ilsa has crouched next to him. She leans over Benji, shooing his hands away and producing a pocket knife. Ethan freezes in place, body tensed. “What the hell ar--"

“Ethan, move,” Luther commands, pushing his hands away himself. The breath rushes out of him when she cuts a straight line down the front of his shirt, only to cease once more when he lays eyes on the mess of bruises that is Benji’s upper body. More will appear later, left by Ethan’s own hands. Underneath, his skin just about matches the two white pads Luther is currently fixing to it.

He makes to lean back in as soon as Luther moves away. Ilsa stops him with an extended arm.

…

The first shock produces no change. Ethan switches roles with Will, though he can’t help but feel as though he’s drowning himself. He wonders if Benji had felt this way in Morocco, and the six months that preceded it, and every other time he’d knelt at Ethan’s side and begged him to hold on. 

_Hold on, Benji. Please god just hold on._

Will’s rhythm slips with what he can only assume is panic, judging from the expression on his face when he catches himself. Ethan shoves his own hands beneath his knees when he realizes they’ve started shaking.

They all move back when prompted by the machine about thirty seconds later. Shock advised.

…

“Benji, oh my—”

“Ethan, do not crowd him.”

“Get him on his side.”

The latter command, given by Ilsa, is obeyed with no hesitation.

“Thank god,” Luther mutters from somewhere above him, while Ilsa asks them about the status of the ambulance. All of it fades into the background chatter, and then to nothing at all until the only other person on Earth is Benji.

His breath catches in his throat as he coughs so hard that he gags. A couple of light pounds between his shoulder blades keeps things moving.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, fingertips finding Benji’s pulse. Weak and much too slow, but that’s okay, that can be fixed so long as it’s _there. _“Cough it all up, It’s okay.”

Ethan bends closer to his face, brushing wet hair back from where it had fallen into his eyes. He studies them for a moment. Half-lidded, moving a little, but they can’t seem to focus on anything in front of them.

“They should be here any minute. How’s he doing?” Will asks, kneeling back down next to him and feeling Benji’s pulse himself. “Okay,” he breathes once he’s answered his own question. Ethan swallows the onslaught of tears which threaten to break loose, the very same ones he’s been holding back since Benji disappeared from that damn train station.

_Okay. _

Okay isn't enough, but for right now it will do.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this in 2016 after I saw [this piece of fanart,](https://imrights.tumblr.com/post/141245512042#notes) but abandoned it. The story I was writing felt a little cheap due to the actual events that took place in the movie. I feel a little conflicted posting it now, but as this week drew nearer, it simply wouldn't leave me alone. I'm not sure how I feel about what I wrote, but I'm pleased that I've finally finished it, will almost definitely make some changes later on.


End file.
